


bathe you in the light of day

by missmichellebelle



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Early Mornings, Fluff, M/M, Post canon, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 20:44:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11066772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: Yuuri is still there. Still close enough that all Victor has to do is reach out and touch, to skim his finger tips over soft sleep shirts and bed-warmed skin.





	bathe you in the light of day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kiaronna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiaronna/gifts).



> Seri prompted me "Crack the Shutters" by Snow Patrol <3

_and just watch you as the rays  
tangle up around your face and body  
_ _I could sit for hours  
_ _finding new ways to be awed each minute  
_ _‘cause the daylight seems to want you  
_ _just as much as I want you_

*

Victor wakes to the seeking touch of Yuuri’s cold fingers against his stomach.

He’s an early riser by nature, sleep fading from him as easily as an exhale in the quiet hours of the morning. But being woken up is a different experience entirely, pulled from sleep with an unexpected jolt that leaves him feeling slightly disoriented and not quite sure where he is.

“Yuuri?” He asks, voice hoarse and low as he squints his eyes open—it’s still mostly dark, but sunrise can’t be far off if the pale light filtering in through the shutters is any indication.

His fiancé is curled against him, head nearly tucked under Victor’s chin and giving him the opportune position to nuzzle his nose into Yuuri’s bedhead. He’s close enough that Victor could stretch out his arms from where they’re curled in the sparse expanse of sheets between their bodies to pull Yuuri flush against him, could cocoon Yuuri in their heavy comforter and Victor’s body heat and fall back to sleep until his internal clock wakes him in another hour or two.

He doesn’t.

He can feel Yuuri’s steady exhales against his collarbone, and Victor knows without a doubt that Yuuri is still firmly asleep even as frankly frigid hands continue sliding up his abdomen and sending a rippling shiver up Victor’s spine.

“How did your hands get so cold, _solnishko moyo_?” Victor murmurs against Yuuri’s temple fondly, and gets a cold nose pressed to his neck for his trouble, making him smile. Yuuri’s fingers curl slightly into fists, and Victor layers his hands over Yuuri’s own, hoping he can warm them before Yuuri gets too agitated and rolls away.

They fall asleep every night, wrapped around one another in whatever conglomeration they happen to wind themselves into. But as willingly as a conscious Yuuri will curl up in Victor’s arms, a subconscious one becomes stifled, overheated, and shrinks away, needing space. It’s a more common occurrence for Victor to wake with his arms wrapped around a warm heap of poodle than his beloved. But… Yuuri is still there. Still close enough that all Victor has to do is reach out and touch, to skim his finger tips over soft sleep shirts and bed-warmed skin.

Like clock work, Yuuri snuffles, burrows closer for a moment, and then abruptly flips on his back. Victor is conscious enough that he has the sense of mind to pull away before Yuuri head butts him in the nose, and feels a wistful tugging at his heart as Yuuri curls away from him, clawing his way out of the comforter so that he can extend his arms out in front of him.

_Ah_. That would explain the cold hands.

There can’t be more than a foot of space between them, and Victor reaches, exposing his own shoulder to the cold of the room just to brush a wanting touch to the stretch of fabric between Yuuri’s shoulder blades. When Yuuri doesn’t shrink from the touch, Victor dares to come slightly closer, splays his hand against the plane of Yuuri’s back so that his index finger is just skimming the exposed skin at the nape of Yuuri’s neck. Yuuri seems to settle against the touch, mumbles something into his pillow that is absolutely sleep-slurred Japanese, and Victor’s heart squeezes almost painfully in his chest with how much he loves him.

Slowly, as the light in the room starts to brighten, Victor drifts closer. Let’s his arm fold until it’s more comfortable, his grip on Yuuri’s sleep shirt a constant cycle between a relaxed, lazy, trusting tangle of fabric and fingers to a clinging, desperate grip—one second certain of Yuuri there beside him, and another suddenly terrified that he’ll disappear if Victor becomes careless and loosens his hold.

Morning warms from cool pre-dawn light to the butter yellow of a fully realized sunrise, creeping through the windows and across the floor, searching fingers of daylight that start to curl around Yuuri. While Victor’s touch had not been enough to disturb him, the sun’s is, and Yuuri is twitching around in his sleep again, ends up sprawled on his back. With every movement, he wiggles further out of the bedding, one arm flung over his head and revealing a thick band of skin between the hem of his shirt and the waistband of his boxers. Victor wants to press a kiss to every inch of that newly revealed skin, but he remembers the, ahem, _last time_ he tried to wake Yuuri up that way.

(He’d gotten a knee to the jaw, for all his good intentions, and _worse_ , Yuuri had apologized to him for a solid three days afterwards. Victor wants to pull Yuuri from slumber like a gentle caress, not surprise him to the point that he feels he needs to defend himself.

Maybe one day they’ll get there.

Victor wants to see the day they get there.)

With an immense amount of skill, Victor carefully extricates his hand from where it is now painfully pinned to the mattress by Yuuri’s body, detouring up the sensitive skin on the back of his neck to skim the shell of his ear, to trace the enamoring line of his jaw. Yuuri nuzzles into the touch until Victor is cupping his cheek in his open palm, thumb rubbing over a cheekbone and Yuuri’s face is twisted away from the encroaching sun.

It’s a view he is now blissfully familiar with. Waking up to take Makkachin with him on an early morning run, but spending a few extra minutes in bed, watching as daybreak halos Yuuri’s entire body, brightening the ends of his hair to a wood-warm brown, drawing the definition out of his eyelashes until Victor is sure he could count every single one. He could trace where the light plays across his lips, his nose, his eyebrow, with the tip of his finger, simultaneously wondering and knowing if the skin is as warm and familiar as it looks (always, _always_ ).

Victor can feel the restlessness in his own bones, the need to stretch his limbs and start his day, and he lets the last few moments stretch. He drinks in every curve and angle of Yuuri’s face, memorizing where the shadows dip darker and the particular way Yuuri’s hair tangles across his forehead. But the sun is moving on, and the moment is fading—Victor darts forward to press a kiss to Yuuri’s forehead while he has the chance, and is rewarded with an adorable nose crinkle that makes him want to burrow into Yuuri’s warmth and never leave.

The sun moves on, and Yuuri groans deep in his throat, twisting his face into the pillows and tugging the heavy comforter up over his head, blocking the sun—and Victor—out. Victor presses another kiss to the mound of fabric that now obscures where he knows the top of Yuuri’s head to be, a smile playing at his lips unbidden.

He’s easing out of the bed as carefully as he can when cold fingers curl around his wrist—there’s no force to the touch, but Victor stops anyway, turning to look at the bedding lump that is his future husband with a soft, inquisitive hum.

“Time to get up?” Yuuri mumbles in a barely intelligible string of syllables from underneath the covers, and Victor’s smile feels like it warms his entire face.

“No.” Victor leans back down to press another kiss to general area of Yuuri’s face, he’s pretty sure. “Not yet.” He’s rewarded with Yuuri momentarily peaking his face out from his cocoon, pinched eyes and a furrow between his eyebrows as he lifts his chin in search of a proper kiss. What kind of monster would Victor be to deny him?

They both have morning breath.

Victor would still kiss him a hundred more times.

“Go back to sleep, my Yuuri,” he coos, pushing Yuuri’s hair from his forehead and leaving one last, gentle kiss there. Yuuri gives two small nods before the blankets come up again, hiding him away from the brightening room around him. Almost as if he’d never woken up to begin with.

The idea to stay, to lay back down, to close his eyes and just feel Yuuri breathing beside him, is tempting. It always is. But Victor forces himself up and out of the bed. He has the best dog in the world to tend to, and a cup of tea to prepare for his inevitably groggy fiancé. He’ll go on his run and take a shower and start breakfast. And Yuuri will be there when he gets back.

He pauses in the doorway, looking back at Yuuri still wiggling to get comfortable beneath the comfortable, and smiles, shaking his head.

For as long as he has any say in it, Yuuri will always be there for him to come back to.

**Author's Note:**

> slowly yet surely dragging my feet through writing more Victor POVs lol.
> 
> [don't be a stranger <3](http://missmichellebelle.tumblr.com)


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